Damien grasped her wrist and set her away from him. "I'm sorry, Marcella. It's I who have been premature. I shouldn't have escorted your home. It's been good to see you again, but I must return to Willowmede immediately."
Marcella's eyes widened and she slapped him as hard as she could. "You bastard!" she shrieked. "You've led me on all afternoon." Whirling around, she ran to the mantel, picked up a Sevres vase and hurled it at him.
He dodged the priceless missile, and it crashed against the wall behind him. She picked up its mate, but he was beside her in an instant and grabbed her wrist. Damien retrieved the vase and set it carefully back in its place. "I had forgotten this lamentable habit of yours, my dear."
Marcella jerked out of his grasp and stood panting before him. Damien wondered why he had ever desired her. She really was a bitch. Like all women. No . . . not all of them, he corrected himself.
"I see how it is," she spat viciously. "You've set your lustful sights on Alexandra Turlington. I saw you watching her today." Marcella paced around the room, returning to stand directly in front of him. "You'll never have her, Demon. She's too proper a lady for you. She prefers a more stable, comfortable man--like Carlisle."
Carlisle be damned. Damien's chest tightened painfully. He would see the squire in hell before he let him wed Alex.
Dangerous thought, that.
"You should really try to curb this hard, aggressive nature of yours and strive for a softer temperament," Damien said. "No wonder Nugent accepts so many long assignments in outlandish places." He watched as she visibly controlled her rising temper.
Marcella smiled archly. "Please, Demon," she said, leaning toward him, closing the distance between them. She ran her hands up his sleeves and clasped them around his neck. "Indulge me tonight. You were always an exciting lover. I've never found anyone quite like you."
Taking hold of her hands, he pried them loose. "I fear I must decline your generous offer. I'm sorry, Marcella."
"My God, you must love her," she said, wrenching away. "I've never known Demon Avenall to refuse an invitation to someone's bed." Marcella marched to the door and flung it open. "I hope she leads you a merry chase, my lord. Alexandra Turlington is one woman who'll not fall into your bed so easily. And now I must bid you adieu."
Damien smiled as he passed through the doorway. "Give my regards to Nugent," he said over his shoulder. "And tell him he has my sympathy."
****
Retrieving his mare from the stables, Damien started off in the direction of Willowmede. He was aware of a feeling of relief, yet something foreboding nagged at the back of his mind. Marcella had accused him of loving Alexandra. Could it be true? He had sworn he'd never allow himself to love anyone.
Riding through the village, he stopped at the Duck and Drake. Throwing his reins to a waiting ostler, he strode into the inn and ordered a brandy. The innkeeper ushered the viscount into the private parlor and hurried to serve his noble customer.
Damien sank into one of the chairs near the fireplace. Propping his booted feet on the fender of the grate, he leaned back into the cushions and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
On the window seat by the bookcase, a large orange tabby stretched languorously. The cat sauntered over and rubbed its body against Damien's gleaming Hessians. After a moment, it hopped onto his lap. He stroked the orange fur and scratched behind the animal's ears.
The innkeeper bustled into the room. "Here you are, my lord. The best in the house--" He stopped short. Seeing the resident rat catcher lying comfortably on such an important guest was too much for the landlord of the small establishment.
"Here now, Missy. Get off his lordship, do. He don't want the likes of you shedding on his britches." The innkeeper started to whisk the cat away, but Damien forestalled him.
"Leave her. She's not bothering me. I'll enjoy her company while I drink."
"Are you sure, my lord? She can be a pesky creature," warned the landlord.
"I'm sure." Damien sipped his brandy and caressed the soft fur. The tabby purred contentedly.
"As you wish, my lord." Shaking his head at the ways of the quality, the landlord left the room.
Damien sat for a long while staring at the empty grate, absently stroking the cat. The innkeeper came in several times to refill his glass and once to light the tapers.
The tabby stood on Damien's chest, rubbing her head against his chin. The cat's emerald eyes glistened in the candlelight, reminding him of another pair of green eyes he'd grown to love.
Love. What had he, Damien Avenall, to do with love? He'd thought himself incapable of such sentiment. He'd taken pride in believing his heart was made of stone, impenetrable to tender feelings. All of his life, he had refused to trust women. He used them to relieve his lust. Not one had ever kindled any feeling stronger than desire.
But when he had held Alexandra in his arms and kissed her for the first time all those years ago, strange and powerful emotions had caught him up in a whirlwind. Even then, he'd wanted to cherish and protect her; she was so young and innocent. And beautiful. For almost ten years, Damien had fought against those feelings, despising himself for his weakness.
He had thought being with Alex, day in and day out, would exorcise the hold she had over him. He'd been mistaken. If anything, she was more desirable than ever. After working closely with her on her thesis, he 'd come to know her in ways he never dreamed possible.
And when he'd kissed Alexandra behind the water fall, her response to him had been devastatingly sensual. She must feel something for him. He knew she wasn't like other women. She was pure and chaste. Honest and good.
Could he bring himself to trust her? She was so damned beautiful! His mother had been just such a one, and Damien could never forget or forgive how she'd treated his father.
But Alex was nothing like his mother. Then why had she kissed Carlisle?
Damien stood abruptly, and the cat jumped to the floor eyeing him with reproach. Squatting on his haunches, he stroked the animal one more time.
"Why did she let Carlisle kiss her?" he asked his feline companion. He must be getting drunk if he was talking to a cat. Shrugging a shoulder, he rang for more brandy.
The landlord came in with the bottle. "Would your lordship care for some dinner? The wife has a partridge pie in the oven and a leg o' lamb done up nicely."
"No, thank you. All I want is this." He indicated the decanter with a nod of his head.
"Yes, my lord." The landlord bowed himself out of the room.
Contemplating the amber liquid, Damien thought about Alex and Carlisle. Surely to God she didn't love the man. What would he do if she really wanted to marry the squire?
She couldn't. They had absolutely nothing in common. It wasn't Carlisle who had watched the charming little girl grow up to be a ravishing woman. It wasn't Carlisle who had spent long hours at her brother's bedside, or stayed up late at night to study the stars and help with her thesis.
Looking back, Damien realized Alexandra had been an important part of his life for many years. Robert was not the only reason he'd visited Willowmede so often in the past.
Damien knew Alexandra was disturbed by his kisses. He also knew she believed he had betrayed their friendship with that first kiss so long ago. Maybe he had. Maybe he had started out to ruin their relationship because she had scared the hell out of him with her exquisite beauty.
But now . . . now, he wanted her. He wanted to love her. He would not be content with mere friendship. She had trusted him as a child. She must learn to trust him as an adult. Just as he must learn to trust her.
The cat hopped back onto Damien's lap. The soft vibrations of the animal's purrs soothed him. He took another sip of brandy.
He knew Alexandra was uneasy about his background. She never let him forget his reputation. Why couldn't she see his past had nothing to do with her? That it would never touch her.
Because she didn't know he loved her, that he wanted to marry her.
Good God, h
e was drunk. Love her? Marry her? He splashed more brandy into his glass and tossed it off quickly. He moved from the chair to the sofa, where he stretched out his long frame as he lay down.
He'd been alone all of his life. The future had always extended endlessly, boringly before him. If he married Alex, his life would change.
Clasping his hands behind his head, Damien stared sleepily at the ceiling. If he married Alex, he wouldn't be alone anymore. To hell with Carlisle; he wanted Alex for himself. He could admit it now. He lived for her smiles and laughter, admired her conscientious study of the George, adored how her beautiful eyes flashed with anger and glimmered with passion.
Yes, he'd ask her to marry him as soon as he returned to Willowmede. He felt the heavy burden he had carried for so long lift from his shoulders. The cat pounced on his chest, then settled down, purring warmly. With one hand on the silky fur, Damien closed his eyes and slept.
****
When the Willowmede party returned from the picnic at Bramble Court, Robert led Lord Thane to his study. Half leaning, half sitting on the oaken desk, he watched the earl pace back and forth in front of him. Lord Thane, his fat cheeks flushed, ran pudgy fingers through his thinning hair and cast a harassed look at his host.
"A fine kettle of fish you've thrown us into, Turlington," scolded his lordship. "You're engaged to my daughter, and I find you making love to another."
Guilty as charged. Robert studied the toes of his highly polished boots. "Yes, sir. I have nothing to say in my defense, except that your daughter and I don't love each other, and I do love Miss Sedgewicke." He stared at the earl. "Felicia can barely stand to look at me and she's uncomfortable with my loss of an arm."
Lord Thane shook his head. "It's been a shock to one with such delicate sensibilities. If Felicia cries off, she'll be labeled a heartless flirt. The ton talks, m'boy. I told her she must cease behaving in a scandalous fashion. Not that she's done anything really bad--nothing more than any spirited young chit would do." He stopped pacing. "To tell the truth, Felicia has thrown out lures to several ineligible bucks, who have taken the bait--hook, line, and sinker. Of course, her fortune's the bait; she has only to cast line and she's got a bite."
The earl peered at Robert from beneath bushy eyebrows. "I thought she'd hooked a keeper with you, m'boy, because I knew you weren't after her fortune. Guess I was wrong."
"Your daughter is a beautiful, lively young woman," Robert said. "She freely admits she fell in love with my regimentals. She would end the engagement in a minute, if she thought we could avoid the tattle-mongers, and if you approved the decision."
A knock on the door caused both men to turn. Felicia entered the study. "Here you are, Papa. I've been looking all over for you." She hesitated, as if she didn't know quite how to continue. Glancing at Robert, she gave a thin smile, then spoke to her father again. "Papa, I've made a dreadful mistake. I refused to release Robert from our betrothal because you warned me not to cause another uproar and I was afraid of what people might think. I've decided I don't care if there is a scandal. I cannot marry Lord Turlington. We don't love each other, and it has nothing to do with his disability."
She tugged the diamond engagement ring from her finger and handed it to Robert. "You were right, my lord. We shan't suit, after all."
Robert took her hand and closed her fingers over the ring. "Keep it, my dear. And if anyone says anything next Season, tell them I jilted you."
Felicia smiled and kissed his cheek. "I don't think that will be necessary. By next Season, I'll probably be engaged in earnest and buying my bride clothes."
Robert looked amused. "Carlisle?"
She blushed, but lifted her chin proudly and nodded.
"I wish you luck, Felicia."
"Thank you," she said quietly. "And I hope you find happiness with Miss Sedgewicke."
Robert raised an eyebrow. Felicia threw him a pert look before turning back to her father, who looked ready to explode.
"What's all this about Carlisle?" shouted the earl, aghast at the possibility of his daughter tied to such an indifferent fisherman. "You can't mean to marry that spoilsport."
"He's not a spoilsport, Papa. He's a fine man, and I think he cares for me."
"At least he's not a fortune hunter," Robert put in, enjoying the scene hugely.
The earl cocked his head to one side. "Yes, by Jove--and he's older, too. Maybe just the one to tame my little vixen here."
Felicia's eyes sparkled dangerously, but she managed a strained smile. "Let's go to the Lake District for the summer, Papa," she said, changing tactics. "Sir Howard says the fishing is prodigiously fine this time of year. He told me there's plenty of trout just waiting to be caught in the lakes and streams. He and Jonathan are going there for a few weeks."
Lord Thane's eyes lit up as he envisioned fishing in the renowned Lake District. "Haven't fished up north in three, maybe four years. Which lake did Carlisle say he was going to, my dear?"
Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, Felicia shepherded her father through the door. "I don't know exactly. We can leave early tomorrow morning and stop at Bramble Court to ask him. It wouldn't take long to hire a house and find the best fishing spots. Carlisle could then join us in a day or two."
Robert breathed a sigh of relief as he followed them down the hall. Now all he had to do was find Jenny and tell her he was a free man at last.
****
Jenny stood in the gardens watching the sun set over the Valley of the Avon. The orange radiance of the evening sky matched her own inner glow because she now knew Robert returned her love. For many years, she had dreamed of his kisses. Today, her dreams had come true.
A crunch on the gravel walkway alerted her to someone's approach. Jenny's cheeks warmed when she spied Robert coming toward her.
His touch made her melt as he pulled her to him. "I've come to tell you I am officially unengaged, my love." He kissed her hand and held it tenderly against his chest. "If you won't consider me fickle, I wish us to become engaged immediately. I would like your hand in marriage, Miss Sedgewicke," he said formally. "I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck. "I accept your offer of marriage, kind sir," she said. "It is the next practical step for people in our situation, don't you agree? And I am not in the habit of kissing gentlemen in labyrinths or in secluded gardens unless my intentions are serious."
Robert smiled. "I know who you were kissing in the maze, my dear. Tell me about this kissing in the gardens."
"I shan't tell, but show you instead." She tiptoed and pulled him into a loving embrace.
A delicious warmth spread through Jenny as Robert avidly responded to her kisses. His arm tightened around her as he ravished her mouth. She closed her eyes and relished the feel of this big strong man trembling with barely restrained passion.
For her. For Jenny Sedgewicke.
After enjoying a delightful few minutes of bliss, Jenny pushed reluctantly against his chest and stepped back. Had she been too daring? Peeking up at him, she saw his green eyes shining with love and a desire so hot she felt scorched.
When Robert pulled her toward him again, she exhaled a ragged breath. His hard body pressed against her and she felt the proof of his passion through the layers of clothing separating them. All the years of waiting and loving had not prepared her for the wickedly enchanting sensations coursing through her.
Suddenly feeling a bit shy, Jenny studied the intricate folds of Robert's starched cravat. "Did you have much trouble breaking the betrothal?" she asked. "Was Lord Thane very angry?"
Robert traced the graceful line of her jaw with his thumb. "For a moment, it was touch and go. I thought the earl was going to prove difficult. Then Felicia joined us and she ended the engagement. Just like that. You'll never guess, but she has her sights set on Carlisle, of all people."
He paused, and when she only nodded, he tipped her chin up and looked at her sternly. "You don't seem surprise
d. I was under the impression Carlisle was dangling after my sister. In fact, didn't Alex say she would accept his offer?"
Shaking her head, Jenny laughed and kissed him quickly on the mouth. "Alex decided she and the squire were not suited to one another. She's in love with someone quite different."
"Demon?" Robert asked.
Jenny looked surprised. "I didn't think you were aware of the undercurrents swirling about Willowmede for the past sennight. Do you mind very much?"
Robert ran his fingers through his hair. Jenny watched as the errant lock fell across his brow as it habitually did. She had longed to smooth it back many times and now she could. Tenderly, she swept the tendril up off his forehead and gasped when Robert locked her in a ferocious embrace. He devoured her lips in a hungry kiss. She gave in to the luxurious heat binding them and wrapped her arms around Robert's waist.
After a moment, she pulled back. "You haven't answered my question," she admonished softly. They were both breathing heavily. She felt her heart beating erratically.
"What question, love?" He bent closer, trying to capture her mouth again.
Jenny firmly pushed him away. "About Alex and Rochdale. Do you mind if they make a match of it?"
"Alex is free to marry where she will," he said. "But Demon will never marry. He hates women. And didn't he escort Marcella home from the picnic? Alex won't stand for that insult."
Jenny examined one of the brass buttons on his jacket. "I think Rochdale and Alexandra have loved one another for a long time. They've fought against their feelings for various reasons. I don't know about him, but Alex has always felt apprehensive about his rakish tendencies. She doesn't think he'd be true to her if she should ever marry him."
"There seems to be more to this than I thought." Robert stared up at the sky. The stars were shining; the moon would be full tonight. "Neither of them have spoken a word to me. My best friend and my sister."
"That's not surprising," Jenny said. "Neither have admitted their feelings to themselves. Alex has only recently discovered she loves Rochdale, and she's appalled at herself. Rochdale still doesn't know; or if he does, he's refusing the truth."
Midnight My Love Page 16
